A Way To Change The Past
by Lerolain
Summary: History is written by the victorious, and now Naia Cousland has a chance to change the way events will be remembered by most. But can the past be forgotten so easily by those who were really there?
1. Snowfall

Disclaimer: Bioware owns Dragon Age, etc etc

Snow fell over the Arling of Amaranthine. In the lee of the tower above the gate, fat white flakes danced prettily in the swirling wind. Drifts formed against the walls in the courtyard, and a cover like a crisp white sheet settled over the footprints of the few people who had braved the weather.

Standing on the battlements of the castle, I looked up into the night sky, feeling the oppressive weight of the falling snow pushing me down. Snow settled on my hair and face, melting where it touched the warmth of my skin. The sting of the cold air brought tears to my eyes.

Two long years had passed since the end of the Blight. Loghain had delivered the final blow to the archdaemon, regaining both his honour and a great deal of respect from noble and commoner alike. His death had bought his daughter further support from sympathetic nobles, and his redemption had ensured that his lost reputation did not tarnish her.

In that time the Grey Wardens in Ferelden had begun to rebuild. We now numbered around twenty, made up of a mix of Orlesian Wardens and our own new Ferelden recruits. We hadn't been short of volunteers in the days after the Blight, but I had sent most of them away feeling that they weren't suitable. I remembered too well the look in Jory's eyes during the Joining. I feared being the one holding the sword, as Duncan had. I worried that I could do it all too easily, if it came to it.

XXX

That afternoon, a ship from Orlais had docked in the harbour. A messenger ran straight to the castle, bearing word that four senior Wardens from Montsimmard were aboard. I hastily sent word back that we would be honoured to receive them, though my heart was in my mouth.

I had assumed they were here to check on our progress rebuilding, but it seemed there was more to it than that. Five figures came across the drawbridge, not four. One was clearly a prisoner, walking in a shuffle with his hooded head down low and his hands tied in front of him.

I bowed low before the senior Warden, my arms crossed over my chest.

'You honour us, ser. Amaranthine welcomes you.'

'I am Ser Morain. The honour is ours. We all owe you somewhat for the defeat of the archdaemon.'

Despite the cold, blood flushed my cheeks. 'I'm flattered, but I cannot take credit for the final blow.'

Morain laughed. He had a hard voice, the Orlesian accent that could sound so sultry in some instead full of steel. Like Duncan, he had eyes that seemed to have seen too much darkness. His laugh contained sly humour, as though the joke was on me and I just didn't know it yet.

'If you could, we would not be speaking now. Perhaps we should go inside. Your Fereldan weather is not kind today.'

Embarrassed not to have invited him in first, I gestured to his party to go inside, but they were already moving.

XXX

Alone in the dark on the wall top, I shook my head at the memory. I had been so flustered by his tone I had not been paying proper attention. I had built up a credible mask as the leader of the Wardens in Ferelden. I had done it by suppressing my emotions, drawing heavily on everything my parents had taught me about ruling. But the arrival of these Wardens had made me feel like a child reciting my lessons to a tutor again, without much success.

XXX

I followed them into the main hall.

'Summon your commanders,' ordered Morain. He offered no explanation as to why, but turned his back on me and warmed his hands at the fire.

For some reason, his turning away from me spurred me into action. Clearly he expected me to scurry away like a chastened servant. Instead, I clicked my fingers at the nearest guard.

'Bring Tian, Aric and Tam to the hall,' I said. He strode away obediently.

I was a Cousland long before I was a Warden. I didn't react well to being spoken down to. He may very well outrank me, but I was head of the Wardens in Ferelden now, and not about to bow without question to Orlais. Pride brought my head up and straightened my back.

'What is going on?' I asked, moving to stand beside him by the fire.

'I dislike repeating myself. It can wait until your commanders are here.' He didn't even look up at me.

_I could really come to dislike you,_ I thought. Seeing I wasn't going to get an answer from him, I turned to look at the other Wardens, wondering if I could engage one of them in conversation. But they had all turned away, not meeting my eye.

Only one person in the room was looking at me – the prisoner. He had been thrust to the floor between two of the Wardens and knelt there. Unkempt blond hair fell down in straggly locks over his face. His eyes burned fever bright above hollow cheeks.

I took a step forward involuntarily. I let out a short sharp breath.

_Alistair._

Morain turned to me. 'I see you begin to divine part of our reason for being here. Ours is a duty that cannot be forsworn. An accusation of treachery is a serious and rare thing amongst Grey Wardens. Abandoning one's duty in a Blight, it is unheard of. Until now.'

I fought to keep my calm.

'What do you intend to do with him?'

'We will debate his guilt. Then we will pass sentence. Such an undertaking is not undertaken lightly. It requires the seal and approve of seven Wardens. The closest Wardens were here.' He frowned. 'Though I would rather have seen justice done in Orlais, truth be told. Take the prisoner to the cells.'

The two Wardens dragged Alistair away. He went without protest, but he didn't take his eyes off me as they marched him out of the room.

'This could be awkward,' said the Warden. 'I understand that the two of you travelled together for some time. I do not want to hear a biased opinion from you.'

I heard the unspoken meaning behind his words. _If y__ou doubt his guilt, things will not go well for you. _

'I will give my opinion the only way I know how,' I said, turning to face him. 'Fairly.'

My mind was already racing.

X

Once my fellow Wardens had arrived, we all sat around a table. I dismissed the guards, so that only we Wardens were present.

Morain stood. 'In peace, vigilance. In war, victory. In death, sacrifice. Grey Wardens have stood against the Blight since the days of the Tevinter Imperium. Almost without exception, we have striven to live by this motto. Better to fall facing the darkspawn than to run. Vigilance. Victory. Sacrifice.' He thumped his fist down on the table to emphasise each word. 'I am thankful that it is a rare few who fail. A Grey Warden who turns his back on his duty is not a true Warden. He is an abomination, a source of shame to all true Wardens. He is a boil that must be lanced.'

He was a good orator, to his credit. He had the other Wardens' rapt attention.

'To those of you not familiar with the facts, here they are. Alistair, the accused, was Duncan's protégé, a new recruit before the Blight came. After the fateful battle at Ostagar, where Duncan sadly fell, he followed you, Naia Cousland, as you sought to raise Ferelden against the Blight.'

He paused. Some agreement seemed to be required, so I nodded.

'I'm curious as to why you took the lead,' said one of the other Wardens. 'You were clearly the most junior member of the Order.'

'Alistair was not a natural leader,' I said. 'I was a Cousland, the second greatest noble family of Ferelden after the royal family. I was used to being in charge. We agreed that it was the best way.'

'Did you know about his noble blood?' asked another Warden.

I shook my head. 'Not at first, but later he...'

'That is not the issue here,' interrupted Morain pointedly. 'The point is that it fell to him to take the lead, and he dropped it like... how do you say? A hot coal? Already he showed his fear of duty.'

'He recognised an important task and recognised the best person for it,' I countered. 'He didn't abandon the duty, rather the opposite. He sought the best way to see it through. I can say that with honesty. After all, I _was_ there.' _And you weren't._ I didn't need to say it. The implication wasn't lost on the other Wardens.

I had scored a point, I saw. Morain scowled at me.

'But at the Landsmeet, he chose to leave the Grey Wardens. You cannot dispute this. After all, _you were there,_' he said.

'He elected to leave _me_, not the Wardens,' I corrected.

'Semantics. It amounted to the same thing.' He waved his hand dismissively. 'In front of many witnesses, Alistair abandoned the Grey Wardens. He has as good as admitted it to us.'

I shook my head. 'No, Ser Morain, you are wrong.'

'But an admission from the prisoner! It is inarguable!'

I looked around the table, and stood up. 'Have any of you heard of Sophia Dryden?'

'Of course. She is the reason the Wardens were expelled from Ferelden. She is part of the reason we have rules about staying out of politics,' said one of the Orlesian Wardens.

I took a deep breath. 'Alistair's bloodline has already been mentioned here. During our travels we sought the aid of Arl Eamon of Redcliffe. He is a powerful man in Ferelden. He had the idea to unite Ferelden under the only surviving member of the royal bloodline.'

'That would be Alistair,' someone said.

'Exactly,' I agreed. 'I think making one of our own King would be about as far away from staying out of politics as we could get.' There were nods around the table, so I carried on. 'And Alistair agreed. Royal bloodline or not, he had a duty to the Wardens. There were other reasons – that Grey Wardens struggle to have children, for one, and that Anora was simply better at ruling than Alistair felt he could be. We made an agreement with her – she got the throne, and we got the aid we needed against the Blight.

'But there was a problem with this. Arl Eamon's support of Alistair for the throne was... not selfless. Alistair was born in Eamon's house – he respected him and took his advice. We thought that Eamon would seek to make Alistair his puppet. But if we simply told him our plan, we worried that he would withdraw his aid to spite us. That is to say, _I_ worried. Alistair trusted Eamon to act in Ferelden's best interests. I did not.

'My solution was, I admit, not the best for us personally. Alistair had to take himself out of the running to be King, but he had to do so in such a way that Eamon could not hold it against the Wardens. The only logical reason we could think up was our treatment of Loghain. So, as you know, Alistair threw a tantrum in front of the entire Landsmeet when we invited Loghain to become a Warden.

'I admit that I expected him to return, but we travelled a lot in the weeks before the battle and it is quite likely he could not catch up to us.'

'But what about afterwards? You spent a lot of time in Denerim after the battle. The whole country knew you were there.'

I lowered my head, blushing. 'I believe that to be a more personal matter. Alistair and I were... close... before the Landsmeet. After the battle, rumours spread about another of my companions and I, about how much time we spent together. If Alistair had heard them, he may not have returned. But that does not constitute abandoning his duty in a Blight. The Blight was over by then.'

There was some more discussion, though I could tell the argument was won, and I answered questions mechanically. My hands were shaking, and I kept them under the table so the other Wardens couldn't see.

It was conceivable that events could have unfolded that way. Most of the Wardens wanted to believe the best about me and about Alistair, and I had given it to them. The best lies are based on truth, they say. And this was one of the best lies I had ever told.

I just hoped Alistair had the sense to play along.

XXX

I grinned ruefully and the cold stung my teeth. If only it had all happened that way! Morain's accusations were close to the truth than I wanted to admit.

Nothing had been faked about Alistair's tantrum. If I was totally honest, I knew he had abandoned his duty to the Wardens during a Blight. Perhaps he even deserved whatever punishment Morain wanted to inflict on him.

Despite that, I didn't think Morain was in a position to judge. He didn't know what it had been like at the Landsmeet. Plots had mixed with intrigue, a thousand threads of possibility that I didn't have the political skills or the time to unravel. I had been uncertain what consequences my actions would have. I had to try to judge what was best for Ferelden and for our efforts against the Blight. I had to put all personal consequences aside.

The cost had been higher than I cared to admit. Whatever my dreams for the future had been – and how they had changed in the last few years! – they had never involved becoming the lonely leader of the Ferelden Wardens, responsible for so many lives, but involved in none. I had friends among the Wardens, but they kept me at a respectful distance. All my travelling companions from before the battle had gone their own ways. I missed them all – even Loghain, sometimes. I had learned something of his history, and we had more in common than either of us cared to admit. We would have had even more, if I had followed my initial instinct and put Alistair on the throne beside Anora.

I missed Alistair most of all, despite everything. We had been there for each other in tough times. Perhaps it was just the Grey Warden taint that linked us, but there was a bond between us that I had not had with any other of my companions. It was friendship, love, trust and respect, and it went deeper than any of those things because it was all of them at the same time. I'd loved before, had good friends before, had people at my back that I trusted to protect me as I protected them, but never anybody who was all those things in one.

I thought I could forgive him, if he asked, if I looked into his eyes and thought there was any chance of reclaiming what we'd lost. I recalled the stare he'd given me as they dragged him from the hall. Was the intensity I saw there born of love or hate?

Wynne would have known, or Leliana. Oghren too, though he would have taken great pleasure in keeping the knowledge to himself until I'd bribed it out of him with a few strong drinks. I wished they were here with me, so I could ask them. All I had were a handful of Wardens, who didn't know me well enough to recognise that I was in pain and needed a friend.

I could stand out here all night and nobody would come to find me, to invite me down to the hall for a drink or a game of chance. I could freeze to death, die in the drifting snow beside the wall and nobody would find me until the thaw came.

Alternatively, I could go sit in front of the blazing fire in my room, and at least be warm and comfortable while I felt sorry for myself. I laughed out loud. I could hear my mother offering me that piece of good advice, telling me to pull myself together and stop being foolish.

I brushed the snow off my cloak. A lot of the fluffy flakes clung to me and I wondered just how long I had been standing here, reliving the day's events. I realised part of me had been hoping Alistair would come to find me up here. Someone would have told him the story of how I rewrote our history to save him, and his heart would overflow with gratitude, and all would be forgiven between us.

I grimaced. This was not some fantasy, some fairy tale. He might once have been my knight in shining armour, but he was a man underneath that. He had pride, and a heart that I had broken. Perhaps he would forgive me or perhaps he would not, but things could not be the same between us again. Perhaps he had even already left Amaranthine, despite the weather, so that we did not have to have that awkward conversation where he would want to know why I lied for him, and I would have to admit that I still loved him.

I went back inside.


	2. The Commander

Many thanks to the people who have reviewed this so far.

XXX

The next morning, everything seemed a little less bleak.

I had thought I was alone in life, but a heavy body beside me on the bed reminded me that was not true. Granted, my mabari Wolf was not the greatest conversationalist and he tended to shed coarse scratchy hair everywhere, but he was loyal and utterly trustworthy. He huffed in his sleep as I threw the covers off and dressed quickly in the chilly air.

When I opened the door Wolf awoke, sensed breakfast, and flopped off the bed to pad along beside me. It was still early, and the castle was quiet.

No matter how early I rose, there was always one person awake before me. Tian sat at the table, a book open before her. She ate absentmindedly while reading.

Tian was the leader of the Grey Wardens who had strengthened our numbers following the Blight. She began to defer to me shortly after they arrived, once she had established that I was suitable. Tian was more of a mother hen than a military commander. I could picture her leading the Wardens over the mountains, them trotting behind her in a line like ducklings following their mother.

Tian was around forty years old, but her hair was still raven black, pulled into an elaborate knot at the nape of her neck. Her eyes were a piercing blue, with deep crow's feet at the corners when she laughed. She was a big woman – not fat, but there was more to her than muscle. She had been a blacksmith before she was recruited into the Wardens and she still had the big physique. She didn't like to talk about the circumstances surrounding her recruitment and Joining. I got the impression that she was the only one who had survived.

I knew how that felt, of course. I still wore the amulet under my armour. Tian always wore hers too, on a long chain so that it hung over her heart.

I was trying to keep my thoughts off dismal topics, so instead I concentrated on spreading butter on the freshly baked bread set out on the table. There is no comfort food in all of Ferelden better than bread still warm from the baker's oven, liberally spread with creamy butter.

Tian waved me to sit beside her, pushing her book to one side.

'Good morning, Naia.' The Orlesian accent that had sounded so clipped coming from Ser Morain sounded like warm honey in Tian's mellow voice. 'Did you sleep well?'

I shrugged. 'You know. The usual.' The bad dreams we all experienced as Grey Wardens had lessened somewhat since the archdaemon died, but they popped up now and again. I knew Tian suffered with them quite badly. They seemed to grow worse as a Warden aged.

'Ah, you'll need a clear head for today. Tam is not happy. He and Ser Morain do not see eye to eye.'

'Does Morain get along with anybody?' I asked flippantly.

She laughed. 'Very few, I think. I imagine Aric will make sure they do not meet.' Aric and Tam were inseparable. Sometimes it seemed they could communicate without speaking.

'Do I need to know the details?'

'I do not know them to tell. You should also be aware that Ser Morain will have questions for you about what you intend to accomplish here. Where our money comes from, and so on.' She waved a hand dismissively. 'And I think the other Wardens will all have questions about the Blight. You have a busy day ahead.'

'Is there any other kind?' Since we had taken over the running of Amaranthine, granted to the Grey Wardens by Queen Anora in recognition of our efforts, there had been plenty to do. I wished I had paid a little more attention to my father when he had tried to teach me about the running of our estates. I had not been a bad pupil, but there was always more to learn.

Since Tian was not forthcoming with the one piece of information I really wanted to know, I had to steel myself to ask.

'What happened to the prisoner?'

Tian gave me an all-too-knowing look. 'Tam gave him a room up in the Quarters.' This was the floor of the castle where all the Wardens slept, including me. Though I could have had the ruler's large suite to myself, it had been Howe's before we moved in. Sleeping there would have felt wrong. Instead I had turned it into a makeshift armoury. The sword I had used to kill Howe had pride of place.

'Oh.' I had been quiet too long, but I had no idea what to say without saying too much.

Wolf pushed his nose into my knee under the table and whined. _Would revealing so much to Tian really be such a bad thing? _I wondered.

'I don't know what his plans are, but I don't imagine they include returning to Montsimmard with Morain. Perhaps you should ask him if he intends to stay.' She sounded just a little too innocent. 'I mean, so you know about... numbers and so on.'

'I doubt he'll want to stay.'

'Why ever would he not? After what you did for him yesterday... Perhaps he has changed his mind about you.'

I stared at her. Could she read my mind?

She laughed. 'I'm not a mind-reader, you know. But I did have several long conversations with Zevran, before he left last time. All night conversations. I wonder when he's coming back?' She stirred her tea, gazing wistfully into the depths of the mug.

'What did he have to say?' I squeaked. Zevran knew a lot of things that I didn't want to be publicly known.

She looked around to make sure nobody else was in the room. 'He told me enough to know that your little _performance_ yesterday was just that. I imagine when Alistair heard the details it confused what he thought he knew about your feelings for him. And your feelings for Zev.'

'Zev does have a tendency to exaggerate those,' I said. The former Crow had a tendency to exaggerate a lot – particularly the events of the days (but mostly the nights) after I realised Alistair wasn't coming back. To listen to Zev tell it, we had stalked Denerim like alley cats, breaking hearts and beds wherever we went.

Some of it was true. I had needed a time of cleansing, to purge all the feelings I had wanted to let go of but been unable to. I didn't regret it, but I didn't want to live the rest of my life that way. When I explained this to Zev, he shrugged philosophically and moved on. He still flirted shamelessly with me every time he returned, but we both knew he wasn't what I needed any more. It wouldn't have worked for him either. Staying in one place made him irritable. The last time I heard from him, he was working for Anora. There was only one thing he was likely to be doing for her. I hoped that a return to his former trade made him happy.

'Regardless, you won't resolve the situation by avoiding it,' Tian said. 'You can sit and discuss it with me until you are blue in the face, but it will get you nowhere. I'm not suggesting you go and bang on his door this early in the morning, but you should speak to him today.'

It was the same advice I would have given if our situations were reversed, but that didn't make it any easier to take.

XXX

My position came with responsibility, and whatever else was on my mind I couldn't neglect it. I had a list of things to do today, and so I set about doing them.

First up, a meeting with the castle steward. He had been here back in Howe's time, but I was reasonably sure he was loyal to us. Howe was not a kind man, and he didn't treat his servants well. Or their families. That kind of behaviour doesn't inspire love and loyalty.

I left the meeting an hour later with a long list of things we 'needed' to run the household. I didn't remember Highever being quite as high-maintenance as Amaranthine was turning out to be. Finding out why was just another job to add to the list – one I might turn over to Aric. He had a head for figures that I did not.

I spent most of the rest of the day in my office fielding questions from the Orlesian Wardens about the Blight and about Orzammar, about the archdaemon, the darkspawn and about Duncan. Some of them had known him well, or had enquiries from acquaintances he had left behind.

By the time the dinner bell rang, I had a thumping headache and my tongue ached from all the talking.

'There's one more person here to see you, Lady,' said Erina, my secretary and the steward's daughter, poking her head around the door.

'Who is it?'

'The other Warden, the young man Ser Morain brought.'

I rubbed my forehead, trying to ease the headache but failing. What I wouldn't give for one of Wynne's pain relieving spells right now! In the bustle of the day I had all but forgotten that I had to face Alistair today. My stomach rumbled, reminding me that I had also forgotten to have lunch. I wondered when my duty had become so important that I forgot about my own needs and wants. It had never been a conscious decision, but had crept up on me quickly after the Landsmeet, I decided.

'Send him in,' I said. I stayed seated behind my desk as though behind a protective barricade.

He bowed his head once nervously as he entered, and sat down opposite me.

Neither of us spoke for a long time.

'Well, this is awkward,' he said. There was a trace of his old familiar wit there, but there was also a bitterness I had not heard from him before.

'It is,' I agreed. 'How have you been?'

'Oh, sodding _wonderful_. Hungry, cold, wet, poor. And that's not even counting the time I've spent in cells. There's been entirely too much of that, thank you.'

Normally so good natured, Alistair's moods had always come as a bit of a shock. He barely ever sulked, but when he did, there was just no talking to him. Before the Landsmeet, the few times he had done this, I had ignored him until he pulled himself together. It wasn't the best solution, but I had a bad temper when riled and was too easily drawn into arguments that could spiral out of control.

'The other Wardens all looked at me as though I'm a traitor,' he said. 'None of them give a damn about what really happened.'

'"What really happened" is a subject of some debate,' I said wryly. 'It could have been much worse.'

'I... yes. About that. I owe you some thanks. Morain would have killed me.'

'He would.' I steeled myself. 'I take it you have stayed because you wish to rejoin the Grey Wardens?'

He said nothing, so I took that as a silent assent.

'You would be welcome here. Maker knows, we need all the Wardens we can get. But there are rules that must be followed.'

'I admit, I haven't liked your methods in the past. But outside the Wardens, outside the Chantry, outside the Templars... Well. It turns out there are some very bad people out there. So I can follow your rules.' He didn't sound too eager to obey, and I wondered how much of his wish to come back was born of necessity, not desire.

'Your fellow Wardens need to know that they can trust you to follow orders without hesitation. They need to know that you will be there with them, come what may.' I sat forward, my elbows on the desk and my hands clasped together. My fingers felt shaky. I put it down to hunger.

'Oh, I see. This is about Loghain again, isn't it?'

I had meant it in a more general way than that, but he was right. My pride and my position warned me not to let him see that he had scored a hit by salting that wound.

'This is about many things, Alistair. Can we trust you?'

He stared at the fire miserably. 'I need the Wardens. I'm not much of a leader, I know that. I'm too trusting. I would have made a terrible King. I need someone to protect me from myself. Even after everything that's happened, I'd like that to be you.'

While I tried to work out which part of that speech to respond to first, he shook his head crossly.

'Wait, I didn't mean to sound so pathetic. If I had been King, Eamon would have been there to help. If I had stayed with the Wardens, you would have been there to give me some friendly advice. Without either of you, I got into a bit of trouble. Maybe I'll tell you about it later, when I feel like less of a fool.' He gave a hopeful smile.

I understood. All his life he had lived in order and routine. He had never been prepared for the freedom and chaos of the outside world. It sounded like his decision-making strategy – to close his eyes and point blindly – had not served him well.

I returned his smile. 'I could be waiting a while, then.'

He laughed at that. 'I'll behave, I promise.'

'See that you do. Look, I have some things I need to do right now. Meet me in the armoury after the supper bell. I have something for you.'

XXX

The armoury was deserted at this hour. The other Wardens were attending a late night weapons practice in the courtyard and I itched to go join them. I fingered the twin blades at my back. Perhaps I would have time for a little practice myself tonight. It wouldn't do for the leader to let her combat skills slip, after all. I wasn't the fastest or the strongest by a long way, but I liked to think I had a few tricks of my own. Too much sitting behind a desk would slow me down.

_And hitting something with a sword is great for relieving tension, _I reminded myself.

Weapons practice was a serious business in the castle. The Wardens wore real armour and used real swords while duelling. The only thing that stopped someone getting seriously hurt were our mages. They could put an impenetrable barrier around each fighter that stopped serious injury. We'd tried it out in real fights, but it required too much concentration to be effective there.

Concentration was something I had been sadly lacking in these last two days. After two years of isolation, two different men had got under my skin in two days. _A leader must be focussed, _I reminded myself. _Remember Duncan. He was always a leader, even when not on duty. _

_I cannot let things slide, especially now, _I told myself. Ser Morain had given me information today that I had been unaware of before. We had defeated one Blight, but this time the Wardens believed the darkspawn would not allow four hundred years to pass before launching another. They were planning something, though we had no idea what it was yet. We had to remain vigilant, we had to build and strengthen our position. I couldn't do any of that if I was not focussed.

I needed my men to be focussed as well. I rummaged through a chest in the armoury, peeling aside oiled wrappers and making an untidy pile of discarded items on the floor beside me.

I heard the door open and close behind me.

'Reporting, ma'am,' said Alistair. I had never insisted on being addressed as a Commander, and from his tone I thought he was gently mocking me.

'Ah, here it is,' I straightened up. 'You remember Riordan, from the Landsmeet? He told us about the existence of a cache of Grey Warden weapons. By the time we got around to sorting through them all, you had left.'

He looked at his feet, though I had not intended it as another rebuke.

'I've tried to model myself on Duncan,' I said. 'He was the epitome of everything a Grey Warden should be. He was utterly dedicated. He was not caught up in the petty squabbles he saw around him every day. When others shied away, he made difficult decisions. Some would say they were the wrong decisions, but he was a moral man and when he chose a dangerous path he did it for the right reasons.

'Being a Grey Warden, following Duncan's example, is not easy. We have to put our personal feelings aside, which is one of the hardest things for a person to do. We have a duty, and if we fail nobody will do it for us.

'I asked you here to give you this.' I passed the bundle over to him. He peeled off the cloths and his eyes widened as he revealed Duncan's shield.

'This was Duncan's!'

'Yes, it was. I think he would have wanted you to have it. Look on the back.'

He turned it over and read the inscription. 'In war, victory. In peace, vigilance. In death, sacrifice.'

'I think he'd want to remind you of that.'

'Are you trying to make me feel guilty? I already do, you know.'

'I'm trying to remind you of your duty,' I chided gently.

'Consider me reminded, ma'am.' He threw a cheeky salute and walked away. I saw the unshed tears in his eyes and knew that his memories would be a better reminder than my words ever could.

As he reached the door, he stopped. He looked down at the shield and sighed. 'Duncan wasn't perfect. He was all of those things you said, but he should have made time to live a little of his life for himself. A balance can be struck between responsibility to your soldiers, and responsibility to yourself.'

'I tried that,' I said sadly. 'It didn't turn out well. This way is better.'

'Looks like I'm not the only one who needs saving from myself,' he muttered as he closed the door.


End file.
